Page 78 of Mountain Grump
Chapter 52
Tilda
My GPS tellsme to take the next left, and I flex my grip on the steering wheel as I approach the tiniest airport I’ve ever seen.
Slowing, I turn into the driveway. Then I stop because there’s a chain link gate blocking my entry.
An older woman steps out of the little guard shack and approaches my truck.
Keeping my foot on the brake, I roll down my window. “Good morning.”
The woman smiles. “Morning. Name?”
She looks down at the tablet in her hands.
“Um, Matilda Wright.” I don’t know how security works in a place like this, but I figure I should use my official name.
“Gotcha.” The woman taps her screen, then lifts her gaze back to me. “Have you been here before?”
I shake my head.
“You’re leaving out of hangar five, off to the right.” She lifts her arm and points in that direction. “Park in one of the spots behind the building with the five on it. Then enter through the side door. Pilot’s already here.”
I force a smile. “Okay, thank you so much.”
“Have a nice flight.” She dips her chin, then walks back to the little guardhouse.
A moment later, the gate slides open.
Filled with stress and trepidation, I take my foot off the brake and roll forward.
It’s just the reading of the will.
When I got that first letter from Uncle Jack back in Vegas, telling me about the house and the twenty thousand dollars, I was shocked beyond belief. But I’ve had weeks to accept it. So even though today is going to be unpleasant, at least I won’t be taken off guard like the rest of my family.
I turn my truck to the right and coast toward building five.
For the hundredth time since the letter was delivered yesterday, I silently ask Uncle Jack why I have to be there today.
Because yes, I know what’s coming, which is good. But what’snot goodis knowing that every single one of my relatives is going to have a total and complete meltdown when they find out Uncle Jack left everything to me.
Me. The pariah of the family.
I take a mindful deep breath as I pull into one of the six parking spots behind building five.
There are two vehicles. A black pickup truck, and a blue four-door something. One of which must belong to the pilot.
My stress increases as I force myself to exit my truck.
I make sure my keys are in my mini backpack, then I slip my arms through the straps, lock the truck doors, and slam my door shut.
I was stressed about my family when I was at the gate, but now that I’m looking around, I’m scared for an entirely different reason.
This is an airport for tiny planes.
Which is why that guard lady said my pilot is here. Because this is going to be a tiny little plane. And it’s going to literally be just me and the pilot.
I wipe my palms down the skirt of my dress.
